The Last Song

You know what your father expects of you.” She squinted into the distance as if trying to catch sight of him. “I pray to the good Lord that he’ll return safely from his journey, and soon.”
    Sofia brought two buckets of water up to my room. She warmed up the water in a caldron in the fireplace and then poured it into a metal tub. I lay back in it andclosed my eyes, enjoying the warmth.
    “Let me help you, young mistress,” she said, scrubbing my shoulders with a cloth and easing me forward so she could reach my back. She also washed my hair and helped me dry myself. It took her a few moments to untangle my long, curly, black hair. Twilight was falling by the time we finished. She helped me change into my newest gown. I ran my hands down its skirt. I loved the cool feel of the silky material. Its pink color and gold embroidery warmed my complexion. I knew that I looked my best.
    I skipped down the wide staircase that led to the center hall. The large carved wooden table we used for our meals was covered with a velvet cloth and set with metal plates. There were more dishes on the sideboard. There was no sign of Mama.
She probably hasn’t finished dressing yet
, I told myself. I decided to go and help her get ready.
    The door to Mama’s chamber was closed. A muffled sound came from inside. Though I stepped closer, I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Every member of our household had strict instructions not to enter my mother’s room without knocking first, so I rapped on the door. There was no answer, but the sound ceased. I knocked again, louder.
    “It’s me, Mama. Let me in!”
    “Just a minute.”
    I heard the key turning in the lock and the door swung open. My mother stood there looking at me. Beside her on a small table I saw two tall tallow candles, their wicks smoky as if they had just been snuffed out.
    “Dinner is ready to be served.” The smoke made my nose twitch. “Did you just put out those candles? You’re always telling me not to use tapers because they cost so much.”
    “I’ll come downstairs in a minute, but first let me arrange your hair.” She gathered my curls on top of my head. “You have lovely hair, Isabel, the same curls my mother used to have.” She took a white cap out of the armoire and handed it to me. “Put this on.”
    “You’re not answering my question about the candles, Mama,” I said while tucking my hair under the cap. “Who were you talking to?”
    Sofia appeared in the doorway, breathless. As she curtsied, I saw her looking at the candles with a puzzled expression. “My lady, horsemen are approaching!”
    The brush fell out of Mama’s hand. She picked up her skirts and hurried past me and out of the room. I followed.
    Somebody was banging loudly on the heavy oak door. Yussuf was standing at the door, waiting for instructions. Mama motioned to him to open it. Hedarted a concerned glance at her before slowly lifting the latches. The door swung open with a creak – and there was Papa! Next to him stood an older cavalier dressed in somber clothes and a boy about my own age. The boy wore gold silk hose, a short blue gown, and a black velvet doublet. A foppish hat covered most of his dark hair. He was a little taller than me and would have been handsome except for the closeness of his dark eyes and the smirk on his lips. He looked at me coldly, as if I were a mare he wanted to buy. Two turbaned Moorish slaves held the horses.
    Papa spread his arms wide. I ran into them and he hugged me so hard that all the breath was squeezed out of me. Next it was Mama’s turn to be grabbed by the waist and swung around before being carefully set down. Her face was flushed.
    “My dear, I am finally home from their majesties’ court, and I brought Alfonso de Carrera and his son, Luis, with me. Don Alfonso is their royal highnesses’ most trusted advisor. Don Alfonso, Luis, I want you to meet my lady wife Catarina and our daughter, Isabel.”
    Mama and I both curtsied, and Don Alfonso bowed with a flourish of his hat. Luis nodded frostily.
    “Welcome to our home, Don Alfonso, Luis,” Mama said. “You must be tired and hungry.”
    “Rather dirty, too, my lady,” Don Alfonso laughedruefully, his gaze traveling down his dusty clothes.
    Mama nodded to Yussuf. “Show Don Alfonso and his son to the apartment on the third floor. Carry water upstairs and warm it for them to wash. In the meantime,” she said, now turning to our guests, “I’ll have the servants